


The Woman

by impalaonfire



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fanfic, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, OC, Romance, Sherlock - Freeform, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-16 12:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4625175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/impalaonfire/pseuds/impalaonfire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John's wedding ends very differently. Fluff and possibly smut later on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

As John and Mary were swept away into the crowd, smiling broadly to each other over the news of their child, Sherlock moved back. He stood against the wall, looking through the crowd, at all of the smiling faces of people dancing and talking with their friends and loved ones. But Sherlock, yet again, was alone. Not a soul to talk to and nothing to keep him sane but his own thoughts. He glanced at Janine, the maid of honor, watching as her body twisted and moved in time with the music. 

Suddenly, she looked at him, grinning. Sherlock’s heart jumped in his chest, a rare enough occurrence, allowing a tentative smile to grace his lips, taking a step in her direction, hoping to join her in the dance. Then Janine moved to the side, revealing the man she was already dancing with. The very same man that Sherlock had pointed out to her earlier, suggesting that she might enjoy his company. She flashed Sherlock a thumbs up, turning back to her dance partner. 

Her back was already turned when the smile fell from his face, the warmth draining from his heart. He didn’t know why he expected anything else. But still, he had fleetingly hoped that someone besides John might actually accept him as he was, with all of his oddities and harshness. He knew though, deep down, nobody would ever be capable of that. John was the only one, and he was already rapidly slipping away into the world of his new wife and the baby on the way. 

So he turned away from the joy-filled room, edging towards the door, all the while faintly hoping that John would call him back. But no. As he expected, nothing. So he pulled his long coat from one of the closets, beginning to pull it on as he hurriedly made for the door.


	2. Chapter 2

Elysium watched from across the room as John and Mary faded away from Sherlock, leaving him alone in the middle of the room, too caught up in their joy to notice the downcast expression taking over his face. She took a sip of her drink, taking it all in as Sherlock looked across the room at Janine, the saucy Scottish maid of honor who, like an idiot, had abandoned Mr. Holmes to dance with a shorter, glasses-clad accountant type. Elysium squinted at the man. Come to think of it, she thought he was the one Sherlock had pointed out to Janine earlier, during his speech.

Janine looked up at Sherlock, smiling. The man’s face lit of for a brief moment and he stepped in her direction, then faltered as Janine’s new companion came into view. After giving Sherlock a quick thumbs up, she turned away. The pleasure evaporated from his features and he shrank back, rapidly heading for the exit.

“Well no.” Elysium muttered to herself, throwing back the rest of her drink and rushing after him, cursing the strappy silver heels that threatened to snap her ankles. Why on earth had she let Janine convince her to wear the cursed things? They were certainly not conducive to chasing people.

She made it to the hall just as Sherlock was beginning to pull his long black coat on, only a few meters from the door. “Mr. Holmes!” She called out, teetering forward on the awful stilettos. “Where are you off to?”


	3. Chapter 3

herlock turned around, eyebrows curved upwards in surprise. A young woman was hurrying towards him, her glitter-coated, silver high heels clattering against the floor, her red waist-length hair swaying to and fro against her forest green dress, eyes sparkling. Her accent was odd, not quite English, not quite American, and Sherlock thought he heard a bit of Australian in the mix as well. He found himself speechless, a very rare occurrence indeed. Then the woman’s ridiculous shoes skidded across the tile, sending her sprawling. 

Sherlock finally came out of his frozen state, moving to her side with a few long strides. “Are you alright?” He asked, kneeling beside her.

“Bloody shoes.” She growled, pulling the left shoe off. “This is the last time I let anyone give me fashion advice or, for that matter, ask anyone how I look.” The strap of the right shoe, apparently too tight, caught around her heel, refusing to budge. Irritably, she pulled harder. 

Suddenly the high heel came free, flying across the hall and crashing into a window. Somehow, instead of shattering it, the stiletto lodged firmly in the glass. Her hand flew to her mouth as she stared at the heel, then glanced at Sherlock’s stunned face, then back to the heel again. 

“Well that’s not something you see every day.” She whispered. When she looked back up at Sherlock, a tiny smile was tugging at the corners of his mouth. Unable to help herself, she smiled back, beginning to giggle. 

“Lovely way to meet someone, isn’t it?” She laughed, shaking her head and pushing her hair out of her face.

“It is most certainly unique.” Sherlock replied, rising to his feet and reaching out to the woman.

She took his hand, her slim fingers dwarfed by his as he pulled her to her feet. Once upright, she brushed the wrinkles from the fabric of her dress. “Thank you.” She said, grinning at him. 

“Very welcome miss... well, you know my name but somehow I don’t know yours.” He shook his head. “I thought I knew everyone on the guest list.”

“Don’t worry. I wasn’t going to be able to make it, but I could at the last minute. Your mind palace is intact, Mr. Holmes.” 

The surprise was apparent on Sherlock’s face. “My mind palace? How...”

“I’ve heard a few stories about you. The mind palace came up once.” The woman shook her head. “I must say, I’m quite jealous. The mind palace never did work for me. It’s all just a massive jumble of too much information up here.” She tapped the side of her head, shrugging. “Oh well, it works well enough for writing books.”

Sherlock stared at her. It was rare that someone had heard of a mind palace, rarer still that someone comprehended it. Blinking rapidly, he shook off the momentary surprises. “And your name?”

“Oh yes.” She laughed, waving herself away. “My name is Elysium Escara.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Ms. Escara....”

“Please, call me Elysium, or Elly if you like.” She interrupted. “Most people can’t wrap their heads around my name.”

“Well then, a pleasure to meet you, Elysium. That is a quite rare name.”

“Yes. It means a state of perfect happiness. And surely it’s no more rare than Sherlock.” Elysium looked up at him, meeting his eyes, seemingly not at all intimidated or disconcerted as most others were. “Now, are we going to stand out here in the hall all night, or are we going to dance?”

Sherlock was taken aback, his heart jolting into his throat and back down into his chest. “Dance?”

“Yes, dance, to move rhythmically to music, typically following a set sequence of steps.”

“I don’t know... I...”

“Oh please. I know you told Janine you love to dance. And while she’s too stupid to take you up on that, I most certainly am not.”

Before Sherlock knew what was happening, Elysium had stripped his coat from his shoulders and was rehanging it in the closet. She walked back to his side, a wide smile directed at him. “You’re going to enjoy yourself. I shall see to that.” He stood stock still, unable to move. “Well, come on!” She reached out, taking his hand and pulling him towards the flashing lights and thumping music in the ballroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Elysium looked up at Sherlock as they glided across the gleaming wood of the dance floor. His eyes never stopped moving, he seemed unsure of where to look. From what she’d heard, he was usually very assertive, even overconfident. And yet his hand, loosely holding hers as they danced, was damp with nervous sweat. 

“Mr. Holmes?” Elysium ventured, a small bemused smile playing across her lips.

His eyes flickered down to meet hers, his lips seemingly cemented together. The only response he offered was one dark eyebrow slowly arching upwards.

Elysium barely managed to keep from laughing. “Are you alright, Mr. Holmes?”

Finally, he managed to speak. “I am perfectly fine. Why do you ask.”

“Well for one, you’ve barely looked at me since we started dancing.”

“I’m observing people.” He retorted indignantly.

“And I can see your pulse racing in your throat.”

Sherlock couldn’t think of a good reply to that. He just stared down at her, completely silent. She threw her head back, laughing at the shock that was so clearly written across his face. “Oh dear, Mr. Holmes, did you think you were the only person who could read people?”

“Well... yes.” He stammered.

Elysium shook her head, strands of red hair brushing her cheeks. “While I may not be as talented as you, I do know how to observe what and who is around me.” She shrugged. “My natural ability was thoroughly helped along by a semester of psychology classes. Something you probably didn’t need. So don’t worry, your magnificent mind has not been matched, not by a long shot.”

Sherlock allowed a small smile to reach his lips, relaxing slightly. “It seems you’re a rare find, Elysium.” He lifted his arm for her to twirl under.

“I certainly hope so.” She replied, spinning around, her hair brushing his jacket. He moved more quickly now, more confidently, adding steps to the dance. Elysium followed him without faltering, her bare feet barely seeming to touch the floor. Sherlock found his soul lifting, the thoughts of John abandoning him to a life of solitude dissipating by the second, lost in the fluid movements of the mysterious woman in his arms.


	5. Chapter 5

Eventually the music began to die down, people filtering out of the room, heading to their rooms or their cars. Sherlock found himself reluctant to let go of Elysium, subconsciously terrified by the thought of losing one of the few people he had managed to connect with. But finally, when there was only a handful of people left in the ballroom, the music shut off completely.

Elysium was also reluctant to release Sherlock, she’d heard about his reputation and knew she’d probably never see him again. But at last, she allowed her fingers to slip from his, stepping back as his hand fell away from her, leaving that spot on her waist cold and empty.

“Well, that was lovely.” Elysium said, twisting her grandmother’s ring on her finger, unsure of what to say next.

“Yes, it was.” Sherlock agreed, trying to think of what to say next. “Shall I...”

“Shall you what?” Elysium asked, tilting her head to the side.

“Shall I... walk you to your room?” He appeared flustered as he made the offer, quickly plucking at his shirt collar as his body heat seemed to shoot up about a hundred degrees. 

“Sure.” She consented. “But just so you know... I’m staying with Janine.”

“Ah.” He murmured as she turned, walking towards the stairs. If anything, he was relieved by the thought of someone else being in the room. For, as Janine had pointed out, is was fairly widely accepted, even expected, that lots of single people tend to sleep around at weddings, something which he had no interest in.

When they reached her room, she unlocked the door and pushed it open, flicking on the dim light in front of the bathroom. “Oh, for goodness sake...” Elysium sighed, leaning heavily against the doorframe. 

“What is it?” Sherlock asked, concern briefly flashing across his features.

“See for yourself.” Elysium stepped aside, gesturing to the bedroom with irritation and disgust.

Sherlock peered inside, then pulled back quickly. Janine was sprawled across the bed, entangled with the man she’d been dancing with earlier, sheets askew. They were dead asleep, an empty bottle of red wine tipped over on the floor. “Aha.” Sherlock cleared his throat.

“I’m going to kill her.” Seethed Elysium, stalking into the room.

Sherlock expected her to shout at the sleeping couple, but instead, she reappeared a few minutes later, suitcase and purse in hand. “I should have known this would happen. I don’t know what I was thinking when I agreed to share with her.” She jerked the handle of the suitcase, extending it. 

“Where will you go?” Sherlock inquired, following her as she stalked down the hall.

“Into London, I’ll get a hotel for a few days until I can get my flat set up.”

“Your flat?” Sherlock felt a small spike of hope dart through him.

“Yes, I just found it a few days ago... it was a rather spur of the moment decision honestly. But I do love London, so I’ll be staying for at least a few months.” She paused at the top of the stairs, hefting the suitcase and beginning to descend. “Unfortunately, the previous tenants are still moving out, otherwise I’d just sleep on the floor there.”

“Please, let me take that.” Sherlock offered, reaching to lift the case from her arms.

“Thank you.” Elysium said gratefully, hurrying down the steps to stay out of his way.

As he reached the bottom of the stairs and set the luggage down, he realized how glad he was that she would be staying in London for a while, even if not for long. “Where is your flat?” He inquired, striding along beside her as she hurried towards the doors.

“I believe it’s on George Street.” She sighed hauling the bag along behind her.

“That’s not far from my home.” Sherlock exclaimed, “Not far at all.”

“Oh? How lovely!” She turned for a moment, smiling genuinely.

They exited the building and Elysium stopped, breathing the night air deeply. “It is a beautiful night, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” He agreed, although he wasn’t looking at the night. He was looking at her as she gazed up at the stars.

Then the moment was past and she was moving in the direction of the cabs lined up in the driveway. Finding an empty one, she opened the trunk before the driver could climb out to do it for her. She shoved the suitcase inside, closed the trunk and walked back to Sherlock.

“It was a true pleasure to meet you.” She smiled.

“The pleasure was mine.” He returned the smile, lines appearing around his eyes.

She hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward, rising up on tiptoe and slipping her arms around his neck for a hug. He was frozen for a long second before slowly letting his arms slide around her. They stood that way for what felt like an eternity. Her skin was soft and he could smell a light musk perfume on her hair. He was suddenly tempted to press his face against her hair and stay there forever. Then, all too quickly, it was over and she was waving to him as she crawled into the cab. Half-heartedly, he waved back, the familiar coldness beginning to creep back into his heart, mixed with a new and very unwelcome ache.


	6. Chapter 6

Elysium pulled the cab door shut, watching as Sherlock’s hand dropped to his side and he slowly turned away. She felt a pang of disappointment as he walked back in the direction of the building. 

“Where to, miss?” The cabbie asked, snapping her out of her daze.

“Oh, um...” She trailed off, realized she wasn’t sure where she was going to go next. She searched her mind, but found absolutely nothing to help her.

Then, suddenly, the door flew open and a long-legged figure pushed in beside her. “221B Baker Street.” Declared the man, as he pulled the door shut, his voice confident and commanding.

Elysium stared at Sherlock in surprise as the cab began rolling out of the driveway, gravel crunching under it’s tires. “Where are you taking me, Mr. Holmes?” A smile was spreading across her face.

He turned to her, car lights sparking through his eyes. “You don’t like hotels, you must stay with me. I insist.”

She laughed, smiling broadly now. “Well, if the great Sherlock Holmes insists, how can I possibly say no?”


	7. Chapter 7

When they arrived at 221B, Sherlock opened the door and climbed out, holding it open for her until she was standing on the sidewalk. He opened the trunk, lifting out her suitcase and setting it beside her, then walked around to pay the cabbie. 

“Are you sure I can’t take care of that, Mr. Holmes.” Called Elysium, peering over the top of the cab.

“No no, already done.” He replied, striding to the front door as the cab pulled away.

He swept the door open, fidgeting slightly as she hauled the bag inside. Swinging the door shut, he reached out, lifting the bag into his arms and bounding up the stairs. Once in front of his door, he set the suitcase down to unlock the door, pushing it open and ushering her inside with a flourish. She pulled the bag in behind her, settling it beside the couch.

“So. This is it.” Elysium murmured, taking in her surroundings. He saw her notice the skull on the mantle and stiffened slightly. She walked right up to it, staring into it’s glaring white eye sockets. 

“Is this a real skull?” She asked, tracing it’s forehead.

Sherlock winced, fully expecting her to recoil in horror. “Yes.”

To his surprise, she just looked back at him and grinned. “Nice!” She moved on, wandering from surface to surface, taking it all in, stopping at the smiley face on the wall. She leaned closer, squinting at the holes in the wallpaper. “Are these bullet holes?” 

A skull may have been tolerable, but bullet holes? No. “Yes.” Sherlock sighed, waiting for her to look at him like he was a madman, just like everyone else.

Elysium looked back at him, eyebrows raised. “The neighbors must absolutely love you.” But her voice was bemused, not scornful or horrified.

“Oh yes, they adore me. Or I’m sure they would if they’d ever met me.”

“Silly people, they don’t know what they’re missing out on.” She laughed, winking at him.

Sherlock felt the heat rising under his jacket again and peeled it off. “Well, it is quite late. I’m sure you’re tired.”

She nodded. “I am actually. Dancing with someone who knows what he’s doing can have that effect.” 

He turned away, wondering why he felt so flustered. “You can have my room... I’d offer you John’s old bed but I’m afraid I’ve made quiet a mess of the place.”

“Absolutely not.” Elysium shook her head, “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“Nonsense. You’re my guest and you’ll have the bed.” 

“Mr. Holmes...”

“Either you take the bed or try to force your way onto the couch, and I don’t think there’s room for both of us there.” He said firmly.

“Well how about we meet halfway and share the bed.” She fired back, then giggled at his expression and the red hue creeping over his cheeks. “It’s either that, or I’m on the couch, and that’s final.”

“Fine.” Sherlock sputtered. Then he whirled away from her, stalking into the kitchen.


End file.
